Sonata No. 8 – Op. 13

Measured. Relaxed. A singular, gentle moment. & so it continues. Sunlight toying with those gauzy yellow curtains. A white cat licking herself clean. Glide of an eagle. Whisper of affection between lovers. Trip down a slow river on a barge packed with barrels of apples. One sailor on his flute, another, scratches a muted rhythm on the railing. It’s the calm before truth. Or. A lie. Once, in the midst of an argument with his father, the boy mentioned a lipstick stain on his father’s collar. How quiet the house seemed. & another time, in another place, many years later, when the father asked the boy if he was a drug dealer. How noisy the quiet seemed. Don’t you think a little rain would be nice’! Daylilies are in bloom & imagine how many more would … & It was then. The sky did seem to open & rain cascaded down the mountain & The entire meadow leapt with the flight of sparrows & the rustling creatures under the glistening grass. It only look a moment. & Then. All. Was. Quiet.